


Ship of Death: The Reading of the Will

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Ship of Death [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-11
Updated: 2010-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-12 14:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall





	Ship of Death: The Reading of the Will

*******************************************

Now it is autumn and the falling fruit  
and the long journey to oblivion.

'The Ship of Death', D.H.Lawrence

*******************************************

 

Part One: The Reading of the Will  
*******************************************  
"This is the last will and testament of Lawrence Hutchinson. I, Lawrence Hutchinson, being of sound mind and body, do hereby make, publish and declare this instrument to be my last will and testament, hereby revoking any and all wills and codicils by me at any time heretofore made. To my son, William Hutchinson, I leave the sum of one million dollars...."

'What!'

'William. Hush!'

'You hush, Ellen. This is outrageous. I won't stand for it.'

'Let the man continue, Dad,' said Susan. 'That was only the first bequest.'

'That isn't a bequest. It's a weekly allowance.'

'William!'

'Okay, okay.'

'Thank you, Mr. Hutchinson,' said the lawyer. 'May I continue?'

'I suppose so, since you wrote the will.'

'What are you suggesting, Mr. Hutchinson?' asked the lawyer, taking off his glasses and studying the man with a hard, naked glare.

'William is suggesting nothing, Mr. Spiers,' said Ellen Hutchinson. 'Please go on.'

'Thank you, Mrs. Hutchinson. I will endeavour to do so.' The lawyer coughed, put his glasses back on, and made a show of rustling his papers, before he began again. 'To whit: "To my daughter-in-law, Ellen Hutchinson, I leave the sum of one million dollars, and my residence in Washington, D.C....."'

'What!'

'William, William....'

'Don't you "William" me, Ellen. I'm not sitting here and listening to this farce. I'm getting my own lawyer, and contesting the will, to the last codicil. And as for you....' He turned and fixed a glare on his son. 'I know what you've been up. All those summer vacations helping him on his digs. Egypt. Iraq. Turkey.'

'He was my Grandfather. I loved him,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'It was fun, travelling the world with him. I learned a lot.'

'I'm sure you convinced him of that,' said William Hutchinson. 'But I knew what you were really doing. I could see where it was all heading.'

'And where is that, Father?' asked Ken. 'Where was it all heading?'

'I don't even have to stay for the rest of the will. The man left small sums of money to me, to Ellen, to Susan, and to several charities, and the bulk of his estate to you, who are also named as executor. Am I correct, Mr. Spiers? Well, am I?'

'Mr. Hutchinson, this is highly irregular. If you will allow me to do my job....'

'Am I correct? Answer me!'

'Essentially, yes. You are correct,' said the lawyer, with a sigh.

'I told you!' declared William. 'I knew where this was heading. Now, I'm heading off to find my own lawyer. I'll see you in court. Ellen! Aren't you coming?'

'No, dear, I am not. And don't lecture me about my wifely duty. My wifely duty is to point out that you are behaving very badly, and to uphold what is left of our family dignity and honour.'

'You do that.' William Hutchinson stormed out of the lawyer's office, banging the door.

'I apologize for my husband's behaviour, Mr. Spiers,' said Ellen, after a moment.

'Thank you, Mrs. Hutchinson,' said the lawyer, once more. 'I do assure you that Lawrence Hutchinson composed his will whilst he was of sound mind and body, and under no duress. It is duly witnessed, and you may contact the witnesses to ask them for their testimony on the matter.'

'I'm sure my husband will do so,' said Ellen.

'I had nothing to do with the writing of the will, Mother,' said Ken. 'I didn't know he was naming me as executor and chief beneficiary. We never discussed the matter. If I'm executor, I can sign over the estate to my father, can't I?' he asked the lawyer.

'That would be to go against your grandfather's wishes, Mr. Hutchinson,' said Mr. Spiers. 'People write wills for a reason. Would you like someone to go against your expressed wishes, after you were gone?'

'Well, no,' Ken admitted.

'He's right, Ken,' said his sister, Susan. 'Granddad was the closest to you out of all the family. He wanted to leave his estate to you. I assume he did leave me something, Mr. Spiers?'

'This is highly irregular,' muttered the lawyer. 'The will should be read properly. "To my grand-daughter, Susan Hutchinson, I leave the sum of five million dollars, and my residence in Paris, France,"' he added.

'Well, my goodness. I'm happy with that. It was more than I expected. A house in Paris, and five million dollars? Are you so very disappointed, Mom?'

'No. Not at all,' said her mother. 'You keep what your grandfather left you, Ken. And let your father rant and rage. What did he leave Ken, Mr. Spiers?'

"To my grandson, Kenneth Hutchinson, I leave the bulk of my estate, and my love," the lawyer read out.

'There!' said Ellen Hutchinson. 'You see. If you disregard the one bequest, you are disregarding the other. He gave you his estate, with his love.'

'I would have been happy with just the love,' said Ken.

 

**********************

 

'So. You're leaving me,' said John Blaine.

'Leaving you? John! You make it sound like we'll never see each other again,' said Ken Hutchinson.

'Will we?'

'Of course we will. I have to see to my grandfather's estate. That's the only reason I'm taking a leave of absence from the Bay City Police, not to break up our partnership. Any part of our partnership.'

'But it's more than that. I know you haven't been happy,' said John.

'I'm not unhappy,' said Ken. 'It's just... you're right. I'm not really happy. I can't help feeling it's wrong. The thrill of being an adulterer has died away.'

'Ken!'

'John. How ever much we try to wrap it up in pretty paper, it's true. You're cheating on your wife.'

'Margaret isn't jealous of you, or any of my men. She knows she's the only woman in my life, and she wants me to be happy. She likes you, and she's glad I have someone honourable, someone I can trust. But there isn't much in this for you, is there?'

'I love you, John. I admire you.'

'But it's not enough. I know that, and I'm being selfish. You get what's left of me, after my work, and after my marriage. In that order. Margaret is content with coming second in my life. How can I expect a man like you to take third place?'

'You didn't ask me to,' said Ken. 'I thought for a while it would be enough, but lately....'

'Lately, you have come to realize you need more,' said John. 'So go, with my blessing. But Margaret wants you to come to dinner, before you leave for Egypt. And I'd like one more night with you. If you agree.'

Ken laughed. 'You don't need to ask, John. I'd want that for myself.'

'The dinner, or the night with me?' asked John Blaine.

'Both,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'But not on the same night. I don't think Margaret is that sophisticated. And neither am I.'

John smiled, but he looked a little sad. Even in the 1990s, it was tough being a gay cop. It had been far worse when he was younger, and far more necessary to have a woman as a cover. Margaret Blaine was more than that. John did truly love her, and Margaret had told Ken on more than one occasion that he was a good husband. It was true what John said about her. She wasn't jealous of her husband's boyfriends. Perhaps she didn't take them seriously as rivals, because they weren't serious rivals. For John Blaine, his wife came first, and then his boyfriends.

Ken Hutchinson liked women, but it was the other way around, for him. He wanted a relationship with a man who would put him first. And he needed to reciprocate, with an undying loyalty of his own.

*****************

'Did you and John have a fight?' asked Margaret Blaine.

They were out on the balcony, after dinner. Margaret sounded worried, but she kept her voice low. Ken glanced back into the house, but John was mixing drinks, and paying no attention. Ken patted Margaret's hand, gently.

'No. Of course not,' he said. 'Why would you think such a thing?'

'You're leaving, and John looks sad.'

'I'm going to Egypt to settle some of my grandfather's affairs. I explained that.'

'Of course, dear. Don't mind me. It's none of my business. It's just that you were so good for John. He... he told me everything before we got married, you know. I was so sure I could change him, or that he'd grow out of it. Then, I realized it would never happen. Every time he tried to stop... to stop his feelings for men, he got so unhappy, and it worried me. He didn't sleep or eat properly. And in a job like his, that's dangerous. But when there was a man in his life, everything was so much better. And the last few years, with you around... as I said, you're good for him.'

'Thanks, Margaret,' said Ken. 'But I'm sure John will be fine. He's a good man. Handsome. Strong. He'll find someone else.'

'What are you up to?' asked John, from the balcony door. 'I turn my back, and the two of you are plotting against me.'

Margaret smiled at her husband. A loving smile. 'Not plotting against you, dear,' she said. 'Just gossiping.'

'Gossiping about me, I'm sure. What have you decided? That it's time to put me out to pasture?'

'Not at all, John,' said Ken. 'I was just telling Margaret how handsome you are.'

John Blaine laughed. 'Well, I'm flattered,' he said. 'But how did the subject come up?'

Ken looked down at the floor. Detectives made for uneasy lovers and bedfellows, he thought. They were used to reading body language, and tone of voice, and to sifting unrelated pieces of information -- and they were suspicious by nature.

'I'll be fine, Ken,' said John. 'I love you, and I'll miss you, but I won't be devastated. I have Margaret, I have my job, and I'll find someone new. That's the thing, isn't it? You deserve someone who loves you more than anyone else alive, more than their job, more than their own life.'

'How often does that happen?' asked Ken.

'Not often, I imagine,' said John. 'So strong a love is a frightening proposition.'

'Yes,' said Ken, softly. 'I'm not sure anyone ever could love me that much. I'm not sure I deserve it.'

Blaine appeared to think about this seriously for a moment. 'I'm sure you deserve it,' he said, at last. 'Very sure. There's someone out there for you. You have to keep looking, that's all.'

Perhaps, thought Ken. In the meantime, I have to look for someone to keep you company, so you eat and sleep properly, and so Margaret isn't worried. He considered all the unattached young gay men he knew. Peter, he thought at last. Peter Whitelaw. Perfect.

**********************

'We will be landing at Cairo Airport in five minutes. Please put out your cigarettes, and fasten your seatbelts. Enjoy your stay in Egypt.'

Ken Hutchinson didn't have to put out a cigarette, but he fastened his seatbelt obediently. Would he enjoy his stay in Egypt, though? That was the question. Without his grandfather, what was here for him?

He had indeed worked on Lawrence Hutchinson's archaeological sites every summer vacation, for years, going back to his childhood. He enjoyed the work, and his grandfather had hoped he'd become an archaeologist. He was disappointed when Ken told him he wanted to be a police officer, but he backed him up, against his parents' objections, and his wife's disdain. He'd been there when Ken graduated from the Academy, and sent congratulatory emails when he was promoted to Detective and later, to Sergeant. When his divorce from Vanessa came through, Lawrence Hutchinson showed up at Ken's door within a week, and took him out for a night on the town. Archaeologists knew how to party. They held their liquor well.

The plane touched down on the runway. It had been several years since Ken had visited this city. Much had happened in both their lives since then. Not the least of those events, had been his grandfather's sudden ageing on the death of his second wife. Ken had mourned her too. She had been much younger than her husband -- not much older than Ken himself -- and William Hutchinson had scorned her as a gold digger. She had died in childbirth, and the baby, a daughter, had only lived one day. Lawrence Hutchinson had never recovered from his grief, though he had tried to go on.

Cairo. The Triumphant City. Minarets, souks, the pyramid of Giza. His grandfather. White hair and a kind face, and a brilliant mind. His grandfather. Teaching him Arabic, and ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, and how to ride a camel. His grandfather. So happy and in love with Leila. -- 'Father married a native! A Moslem! A nobody!' -- and so white and old after....

The taxi pulled up at the Grand Hyatt Cairo. The porters scurried to collect his luggage, and escort him to his room. The Concierge welcomed him, and offered her condolences on his loss.

The door to his suite closed behind her, and he was alone. He looked around in sudden horror. When he made his reservations, and the concierge asked if he wanted his grandfather's usual suite, he had answered without thinking. This was one of the Royal Suites. His entire apartment at home could fit in the reception lounge. He could stake out several camels in the walk-in closet. He could play water polo in the jacuzzi. He could cook meals in his own private kitchen -- if he didn't want his own butler waiting on him.

And he was stuck here now. He tried to imagine going to the Concierge and asking for a regular hotel room. The apologies. The endless questions about what was wrong with this suite, and how they could make it up to him. The gossip, and the speculation about his financial state.

All his clothes had been removed from his suitcases, and hung in his closet. His best clothes had been laid out on his king sized bed, ready to change into after a shower.

Much better to let all this nonsense wash over him, and roll with the waves. It had been a long trip, and the alternative was too exhausting.

He showered, and let the hot water ease the kinks from his muscles, then pulled on a loose Egyptian cotton robe, instead of the clothes waiting on his bed. He didn't feel like exploring Cairo nightlife tonight. He walked out onto one of the six balconies this suite boasted, and sat to watch the darkness wash in from the desert.

The Grand Hyatt Cairo was built on an island in the middle of the Nile River. Off in the middle distance, he could see the pyramids. All around was the world his grandfather had loved. Ken thought about that love for a moment, and then opened the letter, the last letter his grandfather had ever written him.

"Dear Ken, by the time you read this, I will have reached the Hall of Two Truths. Osiris, Anubis and Thoth have judged me. They have weighed my heart in the balance, against the Feather of Truth. Will my lies and sins weigh against me? You know me well. You decide.

"If you think I have now been eaten by the Devourer, then curse my memory for all eternity. There will be nothing else left of me.

"If you think I have passed the gates of Yaru, and joined with my ka, then read on. I am not great enough to become a star, but I am part of the nature all around you. Heed my words.

"I know that you have no love for money. That is why I have left you most of mine. I know that you are honourable and just, in a world that increasingly scorns such concepts as naive. That is why I have left you my heritage.

'There are other things I know about you, of which even you yourself are unaware. It is not for me to reveal these things, for you must discover them yourself, when you are ready.

"One day, you will know yourself as I know you, and then you will understand why I made you my heir. In the meantime, trust me. Go to my bank in Cairo, and open my safety deposit box. Inside, you will find detailed instructions on how I would wish my estate to be handled for the first few years. After that, you are on your own. Also, you will find keys to my houses, which are now your houses. Among them, is the key to the house near Luxor.

"Think back. Remember your childhood, and the summers we spent here. And forgive me."

I've already forgiven you, Grandfather, he thought. But what am I going to do now, with all that money? It's not the life I wanted for myself. But I can't just throw it away. For one thing, Dad would say it proved you were crazy and made the wrong choice. I don't care what he thinks of me, but I won't stand for him dissing you.

Ken sighed, and stretched, and winced. The shower had not soaked all the kinks from his plane flight after all. He could hear his grandfather's voice.

'That's why God gave us jacuzzis, Ken.'

 

********************

 

'Marhaban,' said Michael Starsky.

'As-salaam Alaikum,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'Or should I have said "shalom"?'

'Either is quite satisfactory,' said Michael Starsky, in English. 'I hope you have recovered from your flight?'

Ken smiled. 'I have, for the most part. Your English is excellent, my Arabic is a bit shaky after so long away from your beautiful country, and I have no knowledge of Hebrew, so, if you prefer, we might continue to speak in this language.'

'You are my guest,' said Mr. Starsky, with a bow. 'And so I shall conform to your wishes in the matter. Though it grieves me that I cannot delight my ears with the sound of your most excellent Arabic, which far exceeds any value my English might hold.'

A servant brought them cups of strong coffee, and plates of sweets. He bowed, and left them alone.

'I must express my condolences on the loss of your grandfather,' said Mr. Starsky. 'He was, I am honoured to inform you, my very dear friend, as well as my client.'

'My grandfather often spoke of his trust in you, and his appreciation for your work on his behalf,' said Ken. 'He looked on you as his friend, as well. So, allow me to express my own sympathy for your loss.'

Michael Starsky bowed, and poured them both coffee.

'How is your family?' asked Ken. 'I hope that they are well?'

'Very well, thank you,' said Mr. Starsky. 'My mother, I rejoice to say, is still alive. And my children and grandchildren are well. There is a strong relationship between my family and yours. The bond goes back centuries, and it far exceeds the financial aspects. Were you aware of this?'

'No. No, I was not aware,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'In what way? How is there a bond between us?'

'It is a long story,' said Mr. Starsky. 'And I don't know the whole of it myself. There are chronicles in my own family which record our association, but some aspects of the relationship were secret, I believe. Your grandfather knew more about that than I. But, apparently, your family were great explorers.'

'Oh, yes,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'Vikings.' He smiled at the image of his father, wearing a viking helmet, and waving a battle axe. His mother now -- she fit the picture far better.

'My ancestors were explorers in their own right,' said Mr. Starsky. 'As well as bankers, and traders. The Starsky family have handled the finances of the Hutchinsons for many ages.'

Not all the Hutchinsons, thought Ken. My father would have nothing to do with you, but that was to his own detriment. 'I hope you will continue to work with me,' he said aloud.

'It will be our pleasure, and our honour,' said Michael Starsky.

'My grandfather has left me an outline of his wishes for the next year or so. After that, he says it is up to me what I do. I must confess, I am no businessman. I was astonished when I learned he had left his estate to me. I hope I don't fail him.'

'Lawrence Hutchinson always had his own reasons for doing things, and he was usually in the right,' said Starsky. 'He was right to trust the Starsky family, for one thing.'

'I believe you,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'And I will continue to trust you, since I have so few business skills of my own. He also left me his house in Luxor. I haven't been there since I was a child. Is it in good condition?'

'To my certain knowledge, yes. Mr. Hutchinson had not lived there since the death of his wife, but he left a caretaker, and ordered the restoration to continue. His wife died in that house, you know.'

'No,' said Ken. 'I didn't know. I thought she died in a hospital in Cairo.'

'She took ill in Cairo,' Mr. Starsky explained. 'Mr. Hutchinson had her moved to their home in Luxor, and it was there she died.'

'I see,' said Ken. 'Well, among my grandfather's instructions to me, was the wish that I should continue to restore the house, and to live there part of the year. It seemed to concern him deeply that the house not be left unsupervised.'

'Yes. Even after his wife's death, when he could not bear to live there on a permanent basis, he visited it several times a year. I don't really understand his fascination with the place, I must confess. But, as all things to do with Lawrence Hutchinson, he had his reasons.'

'Perhaps I will discover those reasons, when I go to Luxor,' said Ken. 'I am leaving in a few days, to take up residence there, but I'll be back at least once a week, until my grandfather's estate is settled. Could you arrange for an apartment for me to stay in? The hotel is... I have the impression I'd hurt their feelings if I didn't continue to stay in the Royal Suite, but it's far too large for one man.'

'Certainly,' said Mr. Starsky, with an understanding smile. 'I'll find you something more modest.'

Michael Starsky took him to the Ben Ezra Synagogue.

'I haven't been here since I was a boy,' said Ken, reflectively. The list of things he hadn't done since he was a child, but which he now seemed fated to do once more, was growing.

'You used to visit my country often,' said Mr. Starsky. 'I remember you, trotting at your grandfather's side.'

'Yes. And then, my own interests took over my life. My grandfather wanted me to be an archaeologist. My father wanted me to be a businessman, to help him with the family business. In your world, it is considered proper for a son to continue the work of his fathers. In America, we think that children should have their own identity.'

'How does one do this thing?' asked Mr. Starsky. 'Is it so very easy, and so common, that children can develop their own identities separate from that of their families? Do they invent a new identity, or borrow one from another family? Elle fat kadimoh tah. Lost is the person who forgets his or her past.'

'I think many people lose all identity,' Ken admitted. 'Or they borrow identities from the media. The movies, and television. Or you join a group that has a strong identity of its own. I became a police officer. Did you know about that?'

'Ah, yes. Your grandfather told me you were a great detective.'

'My grandfather was very kind,' said Ken.

'He loved you. He was proud of you,' said Michael Starsky.

'The police have their own group identity. Like the army, or something. I didn't fit in too well with them, either.'

They stopped to look at a display of some of the medieval manuscripts that had been found in the Geniza, back in the 1890s. Children's work books, in shaky Hebrew letters. Worn out scrolls, a millennium old, or more.

'This was such a thriving community, once,' said Ken Hutchinson. 'It's sad that now it's only a museum.'

'Sad, yes. But that is life,' said Michael Starsky. 'Look around you. Egypt is a museum. Luxor is one large, open air museum in itself. Once the pharaohs were so powerful, they could spend fortunes on their tombs. And we raided the tombs, and display the mummies in museums all over the world. But, in a way, that is immortality.'

'They thought they could take it with them,' said Ken. 'And only members of the royal family could have pyramids, so they could take more with them than anyone else. Though, everyone's ka was equal in the sight of the gods. All that mattered, was if your heart weighed in the balance, against the Feather of Truth. Moses Maimonides worshipped here, didn't he?'

Michael Starsky blinked at the change in topic. 'Yes,' he said. 'Sometimes they called this the Maimonides Synagogue. He came here from Spain, fleeing persecution. Egypt welcomed us then, which is ironic, considering all our past history. We thrived here for centuries. And now, there are only a handful of us, in all of Egypt. Fewer Jews, I believe, than even after the Exodus.'

'You have not left Egypt,' Ken pointed out.

'No,' said Michael Starsky. 'I remained, to handle the affairs of your grandfather, and my friend. No matter what happens, for as long as you need me, I will remain here, to honour his memory. Just let me know what you expect of me.'

'If it should ever come to a pogrom, I would expect you to get the Hell out of Dodge. These days, you can do business over the internet. Even shepherds guarding their flocks by night have laptops, didn't you know?'

'I am too old,' said Mr. Starsky. 'I believe in doing business face to face.'

'So do I,' said Ken Hutchinson.

 

************


End file.
